The Pact of Flesh and Fury

The forest held its breath as Kael’s thumb traced the seam of Zelda’s lips, rough and deliberate, like he was memorizing the shape of her vengeance. Moonlight sliced through the canopy in silver shards, painting his scars in stark relief—jagged lines across his cheek, his throat, disappearing beneath the torn collar of his shirt. He was broader than Grayson, wilder, his body a map of battles survived and brothers betrayed.

Delilah’s silhouette froze at the treeline, dagger glinting, her white nightgown fluttering like a surrender flag. Zelda felt her stare like claws on her back, but she didn’t turn. Let her watch. Let her...